


if you were here i'd be home

by likelightning



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelightning/pseuds/likelightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelley goes to Australia in the fall. Hope stays in Seattle. </p><p>It's only four months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you were here i'd be home

Kelley goes to Australia in the fall. Hope stays in Seattle.

The weekend before she flies out they spend hours downtown together. They eat at their favorite restaurants and Hope rides the ferry out to Bainbridge with Kelley, bunched in close against the wet fall wind. Kelley orders them wine flights, Hope picks up giant paper cups of Seattle coffee, they eat chocolate by the water and stay out late into the morning laughing hard over drinks in their favorite bar. They overindulge in everything, but especially in each other.

The day before she leaves they don’t get out of bed. Leo whines at the bedroom door until Hope throws on a t-shirt and goes to let him into the backyard. He splashes into a chronic puddle in the grass, splattering Hope’s bare ankles, and she lunges for him, running her hands through his thick hair. He pants happily. When she looks up, Kelley is hovering by the bedroom window, watching them.

The morning she leaves Hope makes her espresso on the stove, pouring it into Kelley’s mug with the right amount of milk and sugar. The sun has yet to brave the grey-blue horizon. She’s just setting it on the counter when Kelley comes down with her carryon, looking travel ready and bright eyed. Hope’s stomach does this little worry thing, this little anticipation of loss. Kelley must see it on her face.

“I’m going to miss you.” Kelley drops her bag on the kitchen tile. Kelley hasn’t said the words out loud yet. She’s refused to say them, but every time she’s absentmindedly reached for Hope’s hand on the drive home or woken up plastered to Hope’s side in bed, she’s been telling her. She’s been trying to avoid the enormity of it, of this separation, but here it is: she’s always been awful at being far from her. Even from the start.

She takes another step forward and lets herself be wrapped up in Hope’s arms. They squeeze each other too tightly, Kelley’s face pressed into Hope’s neck. She smells like home. They’ve been doing this all week, trying to get into each other, trying to memorize something or share something that’s beyond words. At this point, they’re only delaying the inevitable.

Hope clears her throat and takes a step back. Kelley can see the glint of moisture in her eyes.

“You’ll be back before you know it.” Hope says, reaching back and handing Kelley’s coffee mug over to her. Kelley nods, bringing her mug up to take a sip. She feels slightly cold and lonely without Hope pressed against her, lonelier still with the thought of many nights and days of the same. She peers up at Hope over the mug. It’s just the way she likes it. Hope is in leggings and a sweatshirt, ready to drive Kelley to the airport, tall in her bare feet, and Kelley loves her all over again.

A moment later and Hope is slowly pulling the mug from Kelley’s hands and then kissing her up into the counter, hands on her shoulders, her neck, trailing down her thighs. Desperate, but not rushed; meaningful, but not careful.

Loving Hope is like this: overwhelming sometimes but never halved.

-

The ride to the airport is not fun. Hope holds her hand and lets her play her Spotify playlist. They discuss the weather – how warm Australia will be; how cold Seattle is already. Hope is more subdued than normal and Kelley can’t quite bring herself into a joking mood. Kelley texts her parents and her soon to be roommates on the other side of the world. It goes by quicker than it should and suddenly Kelley finds herself standing outside of Hope’s SUV with her bag over her shoulder and her suitcase at her feet. Hope pulls her into a hug so tight she can’t breathe, and then she lets go.

“I love you. Kick some ass over there babe.” She murmurs against Kelley’s forehead. Kelley’s hand is fisted in her sweatshirt. A warm kiss to Kelley’s lips and then she’s stepping back. It’s up to Kelley to force her feet up the walkway and into the airport. She turns around once. Hope’s arms are crossed and she’s still keeping watch, the flow of traffic behind her merely white noise to both of them. Kelley blows her a kiss and watches Hope’s eyes warm with a smile.

-

Kelley only lasts two minutes in her seat on the plane before she’s tugging her phone out of her bag.

They are not disused to being away from each other, but a week here and there doesn’t have the same heaviness of a whole season on the opposite side of the world. They discussed it to death, but in the end the decision was made. It’s been a good decision, and exciting, but also a hard one. Kelly worries. They’ve become a package - partners, a family, home, whatever you want to call it - and Kelley hates the idea of Hope in their house alone. Hates the idea of Hope driving away from her right now in an empty car.

She types out “miss you already” and hits send.

-

Kelley was traded to Seattle after another gold medal or two, moved cross country in the middle of a bracing winter, and started over again. A new city, a new team. A new angle at life.

Hope had had her fresh start, too.

Barely eight months later Kelley was packing up her one bedroom apartment in Capitol Hill and moving into Hope’s house. Fitting her picture frames in Hope’s living room and her bike in Hope’s garage. Shifting into each other’s lives like they’d had practice at it. Fitting next to each other in bed like they’d had practice at that, too.

They might have seen it coming, but Hope spent years just missing Kelley’s mouth. They might have seen it coming, but Kelley had once let the possibility of them fade into the dried ink of the past.

 _Finally, finally_ Kelley still thinks sometimes, the warmth of their bedroom lamps lighting up Hope’s dark eyes and the laugh lines around her eyes.

-

Kelley calls while Hope is in Whole Foods trying to decide which organic gluten-free fair trade bar of chocolate she’s going to eat her sadness with that night. Her voice is breathless and warm, excitement spilling out of it. Hope stops where she is in the aisle, basket hanging from one hand.

“The house is amazing, Hope. I can ride my bike to the beach.”

“Sounds perfect.” Hope says, her voice warm with affection. She pictures Kelley balancing her board precariously on her head, one hand keeping her bike even. She remembers their slightly disastrous attempt at a tandem bike in Portugal last year, how she’d been laughing too hard to pedal properly.

“Jess is here already, she wants to go out for dinner tonight and show me around town. She says hey.”

“Don’t let her teach you any slang.” Hope remarks dryly. “I don’t think she understands half of what she says.”

“I’ll be a local before you know it.” Kelley laughs, her half-assed Australian accent sounding more slurred than anything else. “I’m gonna go before we rack up a crazy long distance bill. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m glad you called.” Hope says, wanting Kelley to stay on the line but knowing it’s impractical. Her grip on the basket tightens and then relaxes.

“I miss you. I love you.” Kelley’s voice warm, sharp, and private- just for Hope.

“I love you too.” Hope hangs up and stares at the fluorescent glow of the shelves of candy, feeling somehow present and not there at all.

-

Kelley knew by her first away game with the Reign that Hope would not fit easily into the past the way she had imagined. She and Hope had always been up and down, incredibly close and then carefully distant. Kelley tried to blame it on a lot of things over the years: the stress of a tournament, the recklessness of a victory, the constant changing of the team or the time they’d spent apart. Her explanations doubled back on themselves and contradicted often- they were close because they hadn’t seen each other in so long, they were distant because it had been too long since they’d last spoke.

The truth was their relationship reacted to the ebb and flow of Hope’s marriage, of Kelley’s girlfriends, to their level of freedom or lack thereof. They were at their closest when relationships were rocky; they were distant when things were going well. When Jerramy came to a tournament, Hope was almost on edge around Kelley’s affection. When Kelley started dating someone new, always without really meaning to, she found herself avoiding Hope during outings and in hotels, flustered when she found herself smiling too fondly at Hope across the dinner table.

It was a complicated, dangerous explanation to their relationship, but at least it had remained predictable. It didn’t fit where they were now: in the same city, on the same team. Both free. No more carefully drawn lines. Hope’s seat next to Kelley’s on that first flight to Orlando and the familiar smell of Hope’s perfume and Starbucks floating across the space. Kelley lending her chap stick and Hope falling asleep with her book on her stomach.

Kelley had been content to put Hope in a category of missed chances and poor timing, and then she suddenly filled Kelley’s whole gaze again.

-

Leo whines incessantly the first day Kelley is gone. He alternates between pacing the front hall and sitting patiently in front of the windows, waiting. Hope busies herself with chores. She washes laundry, blows off the deck, rearranges their pots; but every time she passes the hallway she sees him sitting there with his chin on his paws. It’s pathetic.

“I know buddy.” Hope says, stopping to scratch him behind the ears. She looks out towards the front yard with him, half-picturing Kelley pulling into the driveway. There have been snapchats for the past couple hours and a handful of texts as Kelley gets up and gets ready for her first day of training, but Hope’s bed was cold and empty this morning. “I know.” She sighs.

-

She cooks dinner for a handful of friends that weekend and they temporarily fill up her empty house with laughter. They spill out around the fire pit in her backyard and Hope carries the bottle of wine and a blanket out with her. It’s one of Kelley’s old blankets and it has always smelled like her, no matter how many times Hope has to wash it after Leo rolls around with it. It makes something heavy ache in the middle of Hope’s chest. She pushes it away.

“Do you remember that, Hope?” Someone calls and Hope looks up, glad for the distraction.

Kelley texts her later that night, as Hope eyes start to close with sleep and wine.

 _Good night love_ it says. Hope texts back _good morning babe_ and falls asleep.

-

The first time Kelley kisses Hope, they’re celebrating their first home win of the season.

(The real first time Kelley kisses Hope she’s twenty-three and they’re in London and Hope is almost engaged but kisses Kelley like she doesn’t want to go home with anyone else, hands in her hair and mouth demanding.

They don’t count that one.)

They’d left the stadium for Kop’s apartment down the street and Kelley has been texting Hope, trying to get her to come out with them. Hope is resisting, but Kelley can tell she’s going to cave. Something about the twinkle in her eyes when she’d waved Kelley out of the locker room earlier.

 _I’ll meet you. Where?_ Hope finally sends and Kelley gives a victorious grin. She taps away an answer.

“Hey smiley, come do a shot.” Kop says, haphazardly filling a row of shot glasses with alcohol. Kelley tucks her phone back into her back pocket.

They end up at one of their regular bars and Kelley sits down next to Kim at the bar, one eye on the door for Hope. It’s not like she doesn’t see Hope every day at training and on long travel trips and even on their off days, when Kelley cooks at her apartment and Hope comes over to watch football and drink wine. Maybe it’s actually because of all that. Maybe Kelley is going down a road she’s had to backtrack more than once.

Or maybe she’s not reading anything wrong and the way Hope lights up when she walks into the bar and sees Kelley saving her a seat means exactly what Kelley hopes it does.

They don’t drink much, just a beer or two next to the pool tables where Jess and Keelin are playing. They lean back against the wall and talk, close enough that they’re almost touching but not quite. Kelley flirts and Hope flirts back, like always, and they have plenty of practice at ignoring how aware they are of each hand placed on an arm, of the brush of fingers as they exchange drinks.

As the night goes on, Kelley finds the rest of the bar slowly disappears from sight. Soon, the only thing in her line of sight is Hope’s eyes crinkling when she grins and the way her shoulders move beneath her vest when she talks with her hands. Kelley’s working on the last inch of beer in her glass when she finds herself staring shamelessly at Hope’s mouth while she talks. She glances up into Hope’s eyes and gets a sharp look back, all too knowing. Kelley swallows hard but doesn’t look away.

“Another?” She asks, lifting her now empty beer with a slightly shaky smile she knows is bright and fond.

“I think I may call it a night.” Hope is still staring at Kelley like she’s a puzzle to be figured out. It’s light though, a hint of bemusement to the quirk of her smile. Kelley sets her glass down on the table. She feels lighter than normal, buzzing with attraction, and something flutters nervously in her stomach.

“I’ll walk you out.” She offers.

Hope pulls on her jacket and her hat and waves off the team, promising to see them at training. No one takes much notice of Kelley following her out of the bar, already used to the two of them tagging after each other. Kelley pushes the door open for Hope and the wind whips in between them, bringing with it a sharper flutter of nerves in Kelley’s stomach. It squirms there, building with every step, turning her stomach in knots.

They walk a block or two in the cold, quietly, until they reach Hope’s SUV. The wind is whipping loose strands of Hope’s hair across her cheek. She pauses in front of her car door.

“I’m glad I came out tonight.” Hope’s hand is tucked into her pocket where Kelley can hear the jingle of keys. Kelley’s breath seems short, her heart beating a little too quickly for her body to keep up. And, softer: “I always have fun with you.”

Kelley summons her courage, the quick tap of her heart filling her with familiar, driven adrenaline.

“Do you ever think it could be something more?” She asks carefully into the space between them. Hope’s face remains carefully neutral and a second ticks by, then another. Then she nods, an inclination of her head, an affirmation that spills through Kelley until she can’t feel the cold anymore.

Kelley takes a step forward into Hope’s space, gaze flickering between Hope’s eyes as she judges her reaction. She takes one more step and they’re practically touching. She has to tilt her head up slightly to keep her eyes on Hope’s. Hope’s eyes are just barely wider than normal, her mouth beginning to part, and then they’re fluttering closed and she bends down and they’re kissing.

Hope’s mouth is cold, from her drink or the weather, but after a moment it warms against Kelley’s. Kelley has to put her hand on the car door behind Hope for balance, her heart still threatening to stutter to a stop. Then Hope is running one warm hand up Kelley’s cheek, brushing over her hair and along her ear. Kelley shivers.

They kiss for another moment and then pull apart. Kelley’s nerves have been drenched in warmth. Hope just looks at her for a moment, her soft lipstick slightly smeared at one corner of her mouth. Her hand hovers on Kelley’s face. Then she steps away.

“Call me tomorrow.” Hope says, almost backing into her car. She reaches behind her for the handle. Kelley wonders if she’s blushing, if her cheeks look as warm as they feel, if she’s going to float off of this street corner at any moment. The fondness spills out into her smile. Hope manages to open the door and get inside.

“Talk to you tomorrow. Get home safe.” Kelley shuts the car door and steps back onto the sidewalk, turning away as Hope starts the engine.

She really, really has to resist the urge the fist pump right there in the middle of sidewalk.

-

The next few weeks of separation pass quickly. Halloween whips by and the cold really starts to set in over Seattle. Hope digs out her insulated rain jackets. Kelley instagrams herself in the ocean, looking tan and on top of the world, surrounded by teammates and rivals. Hope likes each one, sometimes wiping the Seattle rain from her screen to see.

Hope spends a week in New York with Nike and it’s a good distraction, keeps her schedule stuffed. It’s a good distraction for Kelley, too, when Hope snaps her pictures from one of her photoshoots. She’s sweating on an indoor soccer field in only a sports bra and pants, her abs on full display. Hope smirks first and blushes second when she reads Kelley’s reply. She has to tuck her phone away from the multitude of Nike employees around her.

They talk daily, snapchat a really ridiculous amount, skype when the time changes match up. They stay lonely. Kelley wakes up disorientated in her tiny double bed more than once, hand falling over the edge of the bed when it should be falling into Hope’s hip. Hope spends too many nights accidentally falling asleep on the couch downstairs rather than brave her big empty bed.

But they make it. Hope ships Kelley small boxes with dumb gifts and short, heartfelt notes and Kelley buys Hope weird Australian food and sends her a pair of her practice shorts with her number that Hope doesn’t take off for three days. They make it.

-

The first time Hope brings Kelley home to meet Mom, they’ve been together for barely a month. It’s her mom’s birthday party and Hope can’t really say she planned to bring Kelley, only that she woke up that morning and Kelley was still asleep against her pillows and she hadn’t wanted to let her leave. They take forever to get showered and dressed and successfully out of the house, hands reaching for new permissions, for already fading bruises. They’re almost late.

Dinner is simple and small. Hope has had her present picked out for months. For the first time in a long time, she feels almost calm around her family. Kelley is like a safety net at her back, trailing her fingers surreptitiously along Hope’s shoulders and charming her mom’s oldest friends. She sits at Hope’s right and her hand stays on Hope’s thigh for most of the night. Hope has always seen how effortlessly Kelley handles herself in social situations, but it’s something else to have it at her advantage, to see Kelley manage her family members with one eye always on Hope.

When they get home that night, they don’t even make it out of the front hall before Hope has Kelley up against the wall, hands halfway to getting her dress off. The “us” is still so new that Hope sometimes can’t believe she gets to do this, gets to kiss Kelley to breathless, to her head knocking back against the wall and her nails raking up Hope’s back.

Hope can’t quite believe this is her life at all. It’s never been this good. She just knows she can’t lose this, and the seriousness of that statement clears all the desire out of her head for a moment. Kelley is whispering something her about going upstairs and Hope has just realized she’s in love.

-

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Hope says when Kelley’s face pops up on her laptop screen. The image is blurred and distant but undeniably Kelley. She’s so much tanner than she’d been when she left. The first glimpse of her always causes a bolt of longing in Hope’s chest.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Kelley responds, staring raptly at her screen. She slumps her chin into her hand. “I miss your face.”

“It’s right here.” Hope chuckles, framing her cheeks with her hands.

“I haven’t seen enough of it lately. It’s a pretty good one.” They just smile at each other for a moment. Kelley framed against what Hope has come to recognize as the walls of her dining room, the short sleeves of her grey t-shirt pushed up, and Hope sitting in the kitchen nook in a white cashmere sweater and red jewelry, dressed for the family dinner tonight.

“So what’d you make?” Hope asks. Kelley pushes her laptop back and aims the camera at the plate in front of her.

“Got the classics here. Some turkey obviously, mashed potatoes of the instant variety, green beans, and some…pretty terrible dressing if we’re being honest.” She laughs and swings the camera back up to her face and Hope watches her glance out of the room. “Keelin tried.” She stage whispers.

“Hey Hope!” Is heard from the background and suddenly the camera is swinging around again. Across the well-appointed table and through the kitchen door, Hope can see about half of their Seattle team in the kitchen.

“Hey guys!” She waves, grinning. She gets a series of loud responses, some more normal than others. Kelley swings her back around.

“What about you?” Kelley asks, eyes darting across the screen again, tracing the planes of Hope’s face. Hope reaches behind the laptop and lifts her pecan pie, displaying it for the camera.

“Mmm, I can’t believe I’m missing Solo pie this year. And Jerry’s pumpkin.” Kelley groans.

“I’ll make you all the pie you want when you get home.” Hope promises, her voice only slightly teasing. It’s enough to make Kelley pause, bite down on her lip, her eyes flashing. She must remember her audience though because she puts a smile back on her face.

“Tell them all I said hello.”

When they hang up, Hope finds her smile doesn’t leave her face for another hour. For a little while, she doesn’t count the days.

-

Megan and Sera come over with a six pack one night that Kelley’s match is being aired. Hope is wearing the team shorts again and gets immediate shit for it from Megan, who cracks open a beer and uses it to gesture at Hope’s outfit. Sera is no help at all, laughing as she drops onto Hope’s couch.

“I bet you’ve been in those all week.” Megan states, but it’s fond. She follows it with a definitive swig of her beer. Hope rolls her eyes.

It’s mid-December, almost to the halfway point, and Hope knows the holidays will pass quickly but she’s dreading passing them without Kell. Last year, their first Christmas as a couple, Kelley had gone home for Christmas and Hope had woken up alone on Christmas morning and vowed never to do it again.

She shoots Kelley their ritual pre-game text, the same one she’s sent for every match this season, and gets an immediate response.

 _Thinking of you all the time today. Wish you were here_.

Hope texts her back, suggesting a skype date later and gets a flurry of affirmative emojis in response. The last one is a scrunched up kiss being blown across the ocean. Hope smiles at her phone.

“You two are so gross.” Megan sniffs, tilting up her beer, and Hope chucks a throw pillow at her.

-

Hope wakes up later that week to a series of snapchats of Kelley lip syncing to Sister Hazel on her back porch, a beer in one hand and her phone in the other. She has costars, but Hope only has eyes for Kelley, her hair curling up away from her forehead and her eyes dancing in the lights. In the last one, she lifts her chin and presses a kiss into the air.

Hope rolls out of bed and Leo stirs from his bed by the door. She’d moved him back into her bedroom after three weeks and he pads after her into the bathroom, her closest company these days. She’s surprised she hasn’t gotten any more used to being alone, but it’s not the fact of being alone really. She’s always been good at being by herself. These days, she’s no good at being without Kelley.

-

After three months of living with Hope, Kelley has met all of her neighbors, including ones Hope didn’t even know existed. She’s gotten them invites to neighborhood block parties and cook outs – Hope’s down for that – and Pampered Chef parties – not so much for that. They get calls when a dog goes missing now and the neighborhood kids come by selling cookies and lemonade and magazines, squatting down to pet Leo on the front steps. Kelley even has a cookout of their own and people who once nodded briskly to Hope on her morning jog are now sitting on the edge of her pool, asking her about restaurants in Berlin.

Kelley also pushes Hope on her morning runs, cuts thirty seconds off her mile and makes her go the extra half mile to the park so they can run past the water in the morning. Somehow it’s worth it when Kelley is chasing her up the stairs and into the shower, laughing when Hope spins and kisses her against the door, helping ease her shoulder out from under her sports bra.

It’s been three months and Kelley still manages to jump out and startle Hope when she’s coming in from the garage with their laundry, even though by now she’s been trained to have one eye out. Hope became used to Kelley’s tactics a long time ago, but it’s different when Kelley’s in her house full time, knows every nook and cranny and Hope’s habits.

It’s been three months and somehow every single day Hope still finds something new to fall in love with.

-

It’s two days before Christmas and Kelley and her roommates are finally finishing their decorations, stringing up lights in the living room and cutting snowflakes. Kelley has never had a Christmas so hot before, and she grew up in Georgia. The heat sticks to the floor and the walls and slows everything down to molasses. It’s all they can do to finish the decorations and ring for a pizza.

Hope is texting her pictures of the Christmas gifts she bought and asking for suggestions and Kelley lays sprawled on the living floor answering her. The lights on the Christmas tree throw patterns over her legs. It’s hot.

 _What’d you get me?_ Kelley asks.

 _You should get your present soon._ Is the response. The doorbell rings with the pizza delivery. Kelley keeps squinting at the three blinking dots on her phone.

“Get that will you, Kev.” One of her roommates groans from the couch. Kelley pushes up from the floor and trudges over to the front door, swinging it open to find Hope Solo standing on her front porch.

“Merry Christmas.” Hope says, Santa hat sitting jauntily on her head, one suitcase standing beside her.

Kelley gasps.

“ _Hope_.” She exclaims as she throws herself off the step and into Hope’s arms. They both hold on so tight that she’s hanging off the ground and Kelley just goes with it, wraps her legs around Hope’s waist and arms around her neck. Hope holds her easily, two arms tight around her back. Kelley presses a kiss into the closest place she can reach, half on Hope’s hair and half the curve of her ear. She can feel Hope’s nose pressing into her collarbone. Hope spins them around twice.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Kelley’s heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she opened her front door. She relaxes her hold and Hope lets her slide down the ground. They just stare at each other for a moment, Hope’s stupid hat knocked even more askew and a grin spreading across Kelley’s face.

“You look good.” Hope says, glancing down at Kelley’s tank top and ragged boxers.

“Shut up and kiss me Santa.”

Hope does.

-

They wake up the next morning crammed together in Kelley’s tiny bed, what roommates are left chattering loudly in the kitchen. Kelley curls a leg over Hope and doesn’t let her get up, presses kisses to her jaw. Hope is jetlagged with no sleep and too happy to care. Kelley has bruises and turf burns in various stages of healing that Hope has never seen, has suntanned shoulders and bursts of freckles all over her that seem foreign to Hope’s frozen Seattle winter mindset. Hope takes care to document them all.

They go out to the beach in the afternoon. It’s empty on Christmas Eve. Kelley wears Hope’s Santa hat and Hope takes pictures of her on the beach. Her smile looks brighter than it has it weeks; it looks like a smile for Hope.

“When do you have to leave?” Kelley asks, later, when they’re in the hammock on the back porch swaying in the breeze and the sun is sliding from the sky.

“When are you leaving?” Hope jokes, but the words fall between them. “I’m here now.” Hope says, tangling her fingers with Kelley’s.

That night, Kelley presses delicate kisses to Hope’s sunburned shoulders and they stay up until Christmas morning dawns clear and hot.

-

Kelley drives Hope back to the airport in one of her roommate’s cars. They’re holding hands over the console again, but there’s less heaviness this time. Hope is tanned after a week on the beach, freckles out across her shoulders. Kelley can’t stop looking at her.

She helps lug Hope’s suitcase from the trunk and clunks it onto the ground. The sun blazes down on them, glaring up from the concrete. Hope isn’t sure how the transition back to Seattle’s version of January is going to go, but she figures she should be used to it by now.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Kelley says, leaning an inch back into the car and pulling Hope into her. Hope puts her hands on Kelley’s waist, leans down to give her the kind of goodbye kiss that makes Kelley’s toes curl. Someone down the way whistles loudly. They don’t care.

Then it’s Hope’s turn to force herself up the sidewalk and towards the airport, her bag trailing behind her. It’s harder than she thought it could be. When she turns, Kelley is leaning against her borrowed car in shorts and sunglasses, looking for all the world like the last thing Hope should be walking away from.

 _5 weeks left_ , Hope reminds herself, the sliding glass doors opening in front of her.

Kelley blows her a kiss and Hope wonders how they thought they’d be able to spend 4 months apart. How they managed in the many years before, how stupid she was to shy away from something bigger than herself, how stupidly lucky she was to get another shot at this. Another shot for them.

The doors haven’t even shut behind her before she’s rolling her suitcase back out, abandoning it halfway down the ramp and wrapping one arm around a surprised Kelley’s waist, pushing her sunglasses away from her eyes.

“Marry me.” She says, and kisses Kelley once. “Marry me when you get back.” Their foreheads are pressed together, Kelley’s arms thrown up around Hope’s neck.

“Okay.” Kelley says, and she has that brilliant Hope-smile on her face, warm and fond and she kisses Hope through it, messy and quick. “Okay, yes.”

And after everything, it’s as simple as that.


End file.
